Nebulous Vex
by d.e.Miller
Summary: Enterprise enters a mysterious nebula... Chapter 6 - :)
1. Distraction

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise and its characters.  
Author: d.e.Miller  
Summary: Enterprise must pass through a mysterious nebula (as if there was any  
other kind) to complete its mission, and absolutely nothing happens.   
Notes: Ok, some stuff happens, because... well... it's a _special_ nebula.

Rated PG-13 for innuendo and the sake of the demographic.  
  
_Viva Le Démographique!  
_

* * *

**N E B U L O U S V E X ** **Chapter 1 _Distraction_  
**

* * *

  
  
Captain.   
  
He'd always liked the sound of that.   
  
But those from whom he had sought counsel neglected to mention many things,  
the least of which being the palpable loneliness which came with the job. As he waited  
alone in his mess room, Jonathan Archer considered his fate.  
  
_The strain,_ he thought._ The strain of...this ship, of always having to be 'up',   
of always having to make decisions... Sure as hell doesn't compare to the strain  
of always having to hide my feelings... My feelings for-_  
  
His inner turmoil was lightly interrupted by the whisking of the pneumatic door.   
The ship's chief engineer entered quickly and joined him at the table.  
  
"Howdy, Cap'ain."  
  
"Trip."  
  
As the commander poured himself some water, Jonathan continued his quiet   
contemplation of the plain white linen before him. Trip noticed that the captain seemed   
distant, but he quickly dismissed it.   
  
_We're all a little tired these days, I guess. I'm sure that's all it is..._  
  
After a bit, he spoke.  
  
"That table cloth sure must be interestin'..."  
  
"What? Oh... Sorry," Jonathan said. He straightened himself somewhat and fumbled  
with his napkin.  
  
"Got a lot done today," Trip continued. "Finally managed to get the anti-matter injectors  
back up to speed. That engine's down there purrin' like a kitten!"  
  
The captain glanced up and forced a smile.  
  
"Good," he said. "That's good to hear."  
  
The steward entered directly and served both men. By force of habit and his "raisin'",  
Tucker thanked him kindly, after which, the steward exited, leaving behind a cloying silence  
which seemed as thick as the nebula through which they were currently passing.  
  
"Uhhh... T'Pol not comin' tonight?" Trip asked. (Silence and he had been estranged  
for quite some time, and these days, he refused its company at every turn.)  
  
"I don't know," Archer said. "Seems like you'd be better able to answer that."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Nothing," Archer lied, then he quickly changed the subject. "So how's Ramirez?   
I heard he took a tumble down there today."  
  
Trip eyed the captain suspiciously for a moment, then he allowed the doubt to pass.   
  
"Yeah, Doc say he's gonna be fine. He fell over the rail, but he caught himself. Just   
ended up with a nasty scratch."  
  
"Well, that's good."  
  
"We really gotta raise that thing," Trip continued. "Don't ya think?"  
  
Jonathan didn't seem to hear him.  
  
"Cap'ain?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"The rail. I said that we oughta raise it up. I mean, seems like somebody's fallin' over  
that thing at least once a week, and-"  
  
As the captain still appeared to be elsewhere, Trip stopped short.  
  
"Are you feelin' ok?" he asked.  
  
Archer fiddled with his food and sighed.  
  
"I don't know," he said. "I guess it's just stress."  
  
"Well, I hate to say anything, Cap'ain, but the crew's startin' to notice. You've been  
mopin' around for over a week now! You sure there's not somethin' you wanna talk about?  
Somethin' I can help you with maybe?"  
  
Jonathan's expression told him that he'd just touched on a sensitive subject, and Trip   
wondered if it was anything that he'd done. Then he dismissed the notion. _The man's   
my best friend. Surely, he would'a said somethin'..._   
  
Finally, the captain looked up and cleared his throat.  
  
"I don't know," he said. "It's hard to put a finger on it..."  
  
"Think ya might at least go see Phlox?" Trip suggested. "Maybe he could give ya somethin'."  
  
Jonathan looked farther away than ever.  
  
"Phlox," he mumbled. "Phlox... I... I don't think I'll be going to see _him_."  
  
"Well, ya know you can talk to me," Trip said, "if ya need to... And T'Pol."  
  
"T'Pol..." he mumbled softly. "I guess... I mean, thanks, Trip."  
  
Archer managed another weak smile, then he stood.  
  
"Look," he said. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm not really hungry, and there's a lot of   
work I need to catch up on. If...anyone needs me...I'll be in my ready room."  
  
Trip gave the captain his best worried look and slowly nodded his head. He managed  
to sneak in a last word, though, just before the door closed.  
  
"I'll, uh, maybe come by and see ya later," he said. "If that's ok?"  
  
Jonathan didn't respond.  
  



	2. Consultation

* * *

**N E B U L O U S V E X** Chapter 2 _Consultation  
_

* * *

_  
_

Lieutenant Reed was busying himself recalibrating the calibration instruments when  
Ensign Mayweather suddenly swished through the armory door. As Travis approached  
him, Malcolm glanced up briefly then returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Uh, Lieutenant?"

"Ensign," he acknowledged without looking up. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, Sir," Travis said. "It's kind of a...personal matter."

The good lieutenant tweaked one last microvalve then took a break. Since they had  
entered the nebula, many things had needed calibrating - up to and including the calibrators -  
but because he was rarely asked for advice of any sort, Malcolm figured he'd better make  
the most of it. He gestured for Travis to follow him, and the two moved to the weapons  
lockers and sat down on an empty bench.

"Now, Ensign Mayweather," Reed said. "What seems to be the matter?"

"Sir, have you- ? I mean, has there ever been someone that you, uh, really liked, but  
were afraid to... uh...?"

"But were afraid to tell them how you feel?" Malcolm finished.

Travis nodded.

"More times than I can remember," he said. "I suppose there's someone...special?"

"Yes, Sir," Travis admitted shyly. "I just don't know what to do about it."

"Well, Ensign, I'm not entirely certain that I'm the most qualified to answer questions of  
this sort, but I seem to remember a wise man once said, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"I guess."

"And if you combine that with, 'Why put off till tomorrow what you can do today,' then  
I think you have your answer."

"Aren't those just a bunch of old clichés?" Travis asked skeptically.

"I prefer to think of them as proverbs," Malcolm defended. "There's a difference between  
the two."

"Such as?"

"Well, you see, a proverb is a- Uh... A proverb uses..."

"...?"

"Look, I'm not a bloody English teacher!" he scoffed. "I just know there's a difference.  
These sayings wouldn't have lasted so long if they weren't essentially true."

"So a proverb is an old saying that has, like, a grain of truth to it?" asked Travis.

"Indeed."

"What's a cliché, then?"

"I think what you just said."

"Huh?"

"'A grain of truth'."

"About proverbs?"

"No, the phrase, 'grain of truth' - it's a cliché!" Malcolm huffed. "I think."

"So proverbs don't have a grain of truth?" Travis blinked.

"You're missing the gist of it. Of course they do! That's what makes them proverbs!"

"Ohhhh..." Travis nodded slowly. "So what's a cliché then?"

Just before full-blown Red, Malcolm Pink-Cheeks rolled his eyes then calmly stormed  
over to the comm panel.

"Reed to Ensign Sato."

"This is Ensign Sato."

"Hoshi, do you have a good definition for cliché ?"

"Sir?"

"A cliché ," Malcolm said. "You know..."

"You mean like, 'a stitch in time saves nine' or 'why put off till tomorrow what you can- ?"

"Yes, yes, something like that."

"Let me look," she said.

After a few seconds, her voice came back over the comm. "It says that a cliché is 'a trite,  
stereotyped expression that has lost originality and impact by long overuse'."

"Does it give an example?"

"'As strong as an ox'..."

"That's a cliché?"

"That's what it says."

"Look up 'proverb'."

There was a faint yet distinct sigh.

"Sure. I mean, yes, Sir."

"Sorry Hoshi."

"Oh, it's no problem," she said unconvincingly.

"It says... Ok... It says that a proverb is 'a short popular saying that expresses effectively  
some commonplace truth or useful thought."

"Ah ha!" Malcolm chimed. "Now we're getting somewhere!"

"Sir?"

"So now, Hoshi, given what you just read, wouldn't you say that a cliché is simply a proverb  
whose shelf life has expired?"

"I really wouldn't know, Sir," she said.

"Well, that's a good way to put it, don't you think?"

"I guess, uh, Sir? I'm late for a- I mean, I'm supposed to meet someone, and-"

"Alright, Hoshi, thanks for the help!"

"You're welcome!" she lied.

With his patented smirk, Lieutenant Reed turned swiftly back around towards Travis and  
proudly proclaimed, "There you have it!"

"What's that, Sir?"

"You weren't listening??"

"I try not to eavesdrop, Sir," Travis said. "It's not polite."

"It's not eavesdropping when it concerns you!"

As it was that the ensign had no response, Malcolm calmly repeated his advice in-full then  
dissected the reasonable differences between proverbs and clichés, after which, Travis stood  
up and thanked him.

"I appreciate the help, Lieutenant!" he said. "I guess I'll go give it a shot!"

"Good luck, Ensign."

"Thank you, Sir!" he smiled. "And remember, 'What's good for the goose is-'"

"Is good for the gander," Malcolm finished.

Travis made a hasty and successful retreat; the suddenly-sobered Lieutenant Reed, on the  
other hand, sank slowly back down on his bench.

"What's good for the goose," he mumbled aloud.

After a few more distracted minutes fumbling with his calibrations, Malcolm sighed and  
returned the microspanner to his toolbox.

"Alright gander," he said to himself, after which, he left the armory and headed directly to  
his quarters to get cleaned up.

* * *


	3. Trepidation

* * *

**N E B U L O U S V E X ** **Chapter 3 _Trepidation_   
**

* * *

**  
** One week earlier...

_Captain's Log - We have been asked by the Vulcans to assist with a medical emergency  
in the Velouria system. Now that we have taken aboard the needed supplies, Enterprise   
is traveling at maximum warp to Velouria Six. If we are to meet the deadline, however,   
it appears that we will have to pass through...an infamous nebula._

"There it is," Archer gawked.  
  
"I never thought I'd see it in person," Travis mumbled.   
  
Before them on the view screen, a massive field of swirling bright pink gases cut a mighty   
swath across open space.  
  
"Is it true about what they say?" Hoshi asked. "About what happens to ships in there?"  
  
"T'Pol?"  
  
"None of the rumors have ever been substantiated, Captain," T'Pol said flatly. "The stories that   
have circulated over the years are probably nothing more than what you call... urban legends."  
  
"Still," Travis said. "It's just so... so... _pink_."  
  
"It is that," agreed Malcolm. "It's too bad we didn't aim for the edges, instead of coming up on   
the middle like this."  
  
"Lieutenant?"  
  
"Sorry, Sir, it's just... Well, if we'd have maneuvered towards either end of the nebula when we   
first started, we could have easily have gone around it."  
  
"T'Pol?"  
  
"That would not have been possible," she said. "It was out of the range of our sensors."  
  
"Well, I mean, it's not like we couldn't see the bloody thing," Malcolm griped. "All we really had   
to do was look out the window, and-"  
  
"That's enough, Lieutenant," Archer scolded. "Is there...any way...we can avoid going through it?"  
  
"The nebula is 114 light years across," T'Pol noted. "It would take weeks to go around it."  
  
"And we don't have weeks," the captain sighed. "Very well. Travis, lay in a course and-"  
  
"How high is it?" Hoshi asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean, why don't we just go over the top of it? It doesn't look that high..."  
  
"You're suggesting that, instead of going around, we go 'up and over it'?"  
  
"Or under," she shrugged.   
  
"T'Pol?"  
  
"If we go 'over the top' of it, it will add one day and seven hours to our journey."  
  
"Well, we can't afford a day," Archer said grimly. "Ensign Mayweather, lay in a-"  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain," T'Pol corrected. "My sensors were calibrated horizontally. The actual time   
added would be one hour and twenty-three min-"  
  
"That's enough!" Archer fumed. "I welcome the opinions of my senior officers, but these supplies  
have to get to Velouria. Travis, lay in a course!"  
  
"Course laid in, Captain."  
  
"Alright, Travis, take us in," he said ominously. "Into the..._Sh'lash Nebula_."

* * *

* * *

After he finished his dinner, Commander Tucker went to the window and gazed out upon the   
swirling pink poodle puffs. He was still plenty worried about the captain.  
  
_A fella's got a right to be down every now and then,_ he thought. _But  
if it goes on and on... That's somethin' else entirely._  
  
Trip finally decided that he needed to share his concerns with somebody else. He ended up   
choosing Hoshi, because _if anybody knows the cap'ain's moods around here, it's gotta be her._  
  
After a brief search, he soon found her in the mess hall sitting with Sub-commander T'Pol. They  
were engaged in a quiet conversation, and both fell oddly silent as Trip approached.  
  
"Hey! Weren't you s'pos ta eat with us tonight?"  
  
T'Pol glanced discretely at Hoshi before she spoke.  
  
"I changed my mind," she said. "I apologize if there was any inconvenience."  
  
"No, it's ok," he said. "Hi Hoshi."  
  
"Commander."  
  
Uninvited, Trip pulled out a chair, reversed it, and sat down with his arms folded over the backrest.   
He cautiously surveyed the rest of the room before leaning in.  
  
"Have you guys noticed how Cap'ain's been actin' lately?" he whispered. "I mean, he really seems  
to be distracted about somethin'."  
  
Hoshi and T'Pol again exchanged looks.  
  
"I really haven't noticed anything," Hoshi shrugged.  
  
"Nor I," T'Pol added. "How long has this been occurring?"  
  
Trip scratched his head.  
  
"A little over a week now," he said. "Pretty much started right after we entered this nebula. And   
you guys say ya haven't noticed?"  
  
Hoshi shook her head.  
  
"No," T'Pol said flatly. "Would you like for me to speak with him?"  
  
"Yeah, maybe you can get him to loosen up a bit. He sure didn't seem ta wanna talk to me."  
  
"Very well," she said. "I will see him after dinner. Now, if you will excuse us."  
  
With this, the three entered a polite staring contest. More specifically, Hoshi and T'Pol stared at   
Trip, while Trip took turns staring back and forth between Hoshi and T'Pol. The whole affair was   
accented by puzzled silence, at least on Trip's part. Finally, he blinked.  
  
"Uh... Ok... I didn't... Uh..."  
  
The women looked at him in anticipation of his absence. Trip took the cue and slowly backed  
off his chair.  
  
"I'll, uh, just go see Phlox, then, I guess? And... leave you two alone?"  
  
Hoshi smiled pleasantly.

* * *

* * *

Alone in his sickbay sanctum, Phlox fumbled with some snow beetles. As the doors slid wide, he   
looked up and was quite surprised to see the recalcitrant Malcolm Reed entering on his own power- not  
a limp, scratch, or bump in sight. As a matter of fact, he seemed quite freshly refreshed.  
  
"Lieutenant," he smiled cautiously. "To what do I owe this honor?"  
  
"There's...something that's been on my mind," he said shyly. "I've been...er..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Reed shifted nervously and managed only the weakest of grins. _I can barely even look him in the   
eyes,_ he thought. _ This is ridiculous... But I must... I simply must..._  
  
"There's something that I've been meaning to talk to you about, Doctor... Err.. I mean, Phlox..."  
  
"Certainly!" Phlox chirped. "What's on your mind then, hmm?"  
  
Malcolm winced slightly, as if being prodded from within.  
  
"I must say that I'm not very comfortable...er...discussing matters of these sort..."  
  
"What matters are we talking about?"  
  
"Personal matters, Phlox... The truth is..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
The truth is... I can't seem to stop thinking about-"  
  
The doors to sickbay again slid open, interrupting Malcolm in mid-sentence. Trip strolled up to them  
directly.  
  
"Fellas."  
  
"Commander," Phlox beamed.  
  
Reed nodded.  
  
"Have you fellas noticed how the- ?" he started, then he paused and studied the two of them intently.  
"Am I, uh, interruptin' somethin' important?"  
  
Phlox smiled cordially and turned his head, deferring the question to the lieutenant.   
  
Reed politely cleared his throat.  
  
"Not at all," he lied. _You arse._  
  
"What were you saying, Commander?"  
  
Trip shook off the odd feeling that had just swept over him and continued.  
  
"Uh... You fellas noticed how the cap'ain's been actin'?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Kinda distracted... Moody..."  
  
"Mmm," said Phlox. "Honestly, I can't say. I've barely seen Captain Archer since we left that Vulcan  
transport vessel."  
  
"Mal?"  
  
"I've been working," he said curtly.  
  
"Oh, well... Somethin's botherin' him, that's for sure. I just can't figure out what..."  
  
"I believe that young Ensign Mayweather accompanied the captain on the trip to Lutara about, mmm,  
ten days ago. Perhaps he noticed something?"  
  
"I'll go find him," Tucker said. "Thanks. You two, uh, can get back to whatever it is you were talking   
about."  
  
_Finally._  
  
"Very well, Commander," Phlox smiled. "If you wish, though, I could, ah, stop by the captain's quarters  
later and check on him, hmm?"  
  
"Couldn't hurt," Trip said.  
  
He quickly left in search of Travis. He couldn't find him, however, and gave up and consulted the   
computer terminal.   
  
"The exercise room," he chuckled. "I shoulda known."

* * *

* * *

Outside the ship, in wisps and tufts, the Sh'Lash Nebula brooded. Hands on hips, lips a permanent pout,  
sh'e was certainly a sight with h'er flamingo pumps and cotton candy beehive 'do. All dressed up with nowhere   
in the universe to go, Sh'Lash sighed deeply and twirled a bubble gum lock around a fluffy phantom finger.

* * *

* * *


	4. Repression

* * *

**N E B U L O U S V E X ** **Chapter 4 _Repression_**

* * *

  
  
_It's always Captain this and Captain that. Why can't people just leave me alone?_   
  
Much like the coral-colored gases outside his window, Jonathan Archer's thoughts swirled  
about his ready room. He was pretending to read the latest bestseller by Foltrane Nixhedge   
and was doing a poor job at fooling even himself.  
  
_It's not too much to ask. Just a little time to myself every now and then. Of course,   
there's a downside to that. At least when other people are around, I'm not constantly   
thinking about-_  
  
The door beeped, then beeped again a few moments later, because the captain ignored it  
the first time. Finally, he answered.  
  
"It'd better be important."  
  
The door opened, and T'Pol stepped halfway inside.  
  
"Captain, I spoke with Commander Tucker," she said flatly. "He seems to be worried."  
  
"Well, you'd know more about that than I would," he said to his book.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Archer sighed and cracked his neck.  
  
"Ok, so what's he worried about?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Well, tell him to worry about somebody else."  
  
Undeterred, T'Pol moved into the room, and the door slid shut behind her.  
  
"He seems to think that something is the matter."  
  
"Well, he's free to think whatever he wants," Archer scoffed.  
  
"Is there?"  
  
"Is there what?"  
  
"Something the matter?" T'Pol persisted.  
  
"I don't know," Archer whined, finally looking up from his book. "Maybe it's just   
this Slash Nebula..."  
  
"Sh'Lash," T'Pol corrected. "If I may ask, how have you been sleeping?"  
  
"What difference does it make?"  
  
"The captain's well-being is essential to both the mission and the crew," she said.   
"Perhaps a Vulcan neural node treatment would help you."  
  
"I don't really see how a massage is-"  
  
"It is not a massage," she corrected. "It is a neural node treatment."  
  
"_Fine. _ But I don't see how a..._neural node treatment_ is going to do me any good."  
  
"I'm sure that Commander Tucker would disagree," T'Pol noted.  
  
"I'm sure he would."  
  
"I have a session scheduled for this evening, but I can cancel it. As I said, your   
well-being is important."  
  
"That's ok," Archer said. "I wouldn't wanna put Trip out."  
  
"The session is not with the commander."  
  
"Who's it with then?"  
  
T'Pol was hesitant to answer, but Jonathan's look was persistent.  
  
"Hosh- Ensign Sato, rather, has been having difficulty..."  
  
"Hoshi..." Archer mumbled softly. He seemed distant.  
  
"Yes. She...has been having back problems," T'Pol lied flatly. "The doctor could not help  
her, so I agreed to...assist."  
  
"Phlox..." Archer muttered quietly. He seemed lost.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"Nothing," he said. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm really not up for a mass-   
I'm really not up for a _neural node treatment_."  
  
"Very well," she conceded. "But if you should reconsider..."  
  
"I'll let you know."  
  
T'Pol turned to leave then turned back just before she stepped outside.  
  
"Perhaps I will stop by your quarters later," she said. "To check on you."  
  
Archer nodded and resumed not reading his book.

* * *

* * *

Trip found Mayweather just where the computer said he was: the exercise room.  
He was lifting weights.  
  
"Hey Travis."  
  
After a heavy-sounding clink, the ensign sat up abruptly and quickly grabbed a towel.  
  
"C-Commander," he stuttered shyly.  
  
"Say, do you remember that-"  
  
"Are you feeling ok, Commander Tucker?"  
  
"What? I guess... Why?"  
  
"Well, you just look really tense, that's all," Travis said sympathetically. "How are   
things down in engineering?"  
  
"'Bout the same as usual. Ramirez took a tumble today... I look tense?"  
  
"I'll say! You know, back when I was a Boomer, I learned how to do this special   
type of rub-down. I think it would do you a world of good."  
  
"Thanks, but T'Pol gave me a neural node treatment just last Wednesday and-"  
  
"It's not a neural node treatment," Travis corrected. "It's a rub-down. I picked it up  
from a Chinese Feng Shui master."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Sure," Travis said as he rubbed his hands together. "Here, let me show you."  
  
"Well, ok," Trip shrugged. "Anyways, you remember that shuttle pod- Ouch!"  
  
"Sorry!" he said. "You're just all knots!"  
  
"I guess," Trip squirmed. "So, that shuttle pod mission... You remember? The one  
to Lutara?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Travis rubbed.   
  
"Just you and the captain, right? A little to the left..."  
  
"Ok... Yep, just me and the captain," he said. "Hey, what's that cologne you're   
wearing?  
  
"What?"  
  
"It smells nice," he said. "I really like it."  
  
"Oh. Well... It was a gift from T'Pol. It's Vulcan. She got it for me on my last birthday.   
Kel'van K'line's 'Repression' or somethin' like that..."  
  
"She's got good taste," Travis noted. "So are you and her...? You know..."  
  
"Nah, just friends... I think..." Trip mumbled, then he got back to the issue at hand.  
"So you and the captain on the Lutara trip - you were together for about 24 hours,   
weren't ya?"  
  
"Give or take," Travis said. "You know, I could do a better job if you took off your   
blues."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean, just so I can get to your shoulders easier."  
  
"Well... Sure," he said. "Whatever."  
  
Trip stood up and started unzipping his uniform.  
  
"So now, Travis, while you and the captain were together," he continued. "Did anything  
happen?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Did anything happen on the way there or maybe on the way back?"  
  
"No, Sir," Travis said. "The captain's really not my type, if that's what you mean."  
  
Commander Tucker, never much for art, suddenly decided to try his hand at sculpture;  
more precisely, he became a statue.  
  
Moments passed.  
  
"Did, uh..."  
  
Travis smiled.  
  
"Did, uh, anything happen to the captain?" Trip asked as he ever-so-slowly zipped   
his uniform back up. "I mean... Not between you and- I mean, did anything _unusual_   
happen?"  
  
"That was almost two weeks ago," Travis said. "Hey! Don't you want me to finish the  
rub-down?"  
  
"No," Trip said. "No. No... Nope. I... You know what? I feel a whole lot better   
already! Thanks!"  
  
"Listen, um, Commander?" Travis flexed. "I'm getting ready to lift some really heavy   
weights. Would you mind spotting me? I mean, if you have the time and everything..."  
  
"Ya know, I would," Trip said. "I would, but I'm needed...down in engineering."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Well, here's an idea," Travis suggested. "Let me think about it for a while - about  
the captain and whatnot? Then maybe you and I can meet for a drink or something later  
on and talk, you know, about...things?"  
  
"Well, uh, sure... I guess..."  
  
"What time?"  
  
"What time what?"  
  
"Well, what time do you want to get that drink?"  
  
"Uhhh," Trip evaded. "Why don't you just comm me if you remember something?   
Yeah... I like that... You comm me."  
  
"Sure, Sir!"  
  
"Ok then."  
  
After a brief and uncomfortable series of good-byes, Trip escaped to the corridor,  
where he proceeded to walk carefully but quickly away. As he did so, he thought   
seriously about that drink - only, in this case, it was a double and he was alone...  
  
_Or maybe with Malcolm... I wonder where he's at right now?_  
  
He stopped at a nearby terminal and asked the computer to locate his favorite lieutenant.  
The computer politely informed him that he was still in sickbay.  
  
_I'd better leave him be. It must be important, or he wouldn't be down there...   
Who else can I drink with? Hmmm..._  
  
Commander Tucker's Hmmm... was interrupted by a flash of femininity better known  
as Hoshi. She was a good two meters gone before he even had a chance to speak.  
  
"Hi Hoshi!"  
  
She stopped, but whether it was out of politeness or duty, only she knew.  
  
"Commander," she half-turned.   
  
"Gosh, Hoshi," Trip ogled. "You sure do look nice! I don't think I've ever seen you  
in a dress before!"  
  
"Thanks, Sir," she said impatiently. "I, uh, really need to be-"  
  
"Hey Hoshi, I was on my way to get a drink," he said. "Would you care to-"  
  
"Look, I'd love to, Sir, just not right now, ok?"  
  
"Suit yourself."  
  
She flashed the briefest of smiles and twirled with a swoosh, leaving behind an invisible,  
Hoshi-shaped perfume silhouette which quickly dissipated into nothing. Trip just stood there  
for a moment and pouted.  
  
"Well, ta' hell with all this!" he grumped. "Ta' hell with the captain and everybody else!   
I'm done. From now on, I'm lookin' after me!"  
  
His independence formally declared, Trip threw his hands in the air for punctuation then   
stormed off towards the mess hall, leaving behind an invisible, Trip-shaped, 'Repression'   
silhouette which also quickly dissipated (though in a much more logical fashion than Hoshi's.)

* * *

* * *


	5. Revelation

* * *

**N E B U L O U S V E X ** **Chapter 5 _Revelation_**

* * *

  
  
The engine hummed. Gases swirled. Pink.   
  
Archer shifted, as he read:  
  
"Kelly, I- It's just that it's been so long."  
  
"Chris, just stop it, ok?"  
  
He knew it. He knew right then and there that he'd crossed the line. And he knew that   
nothing, absolutely nothing, would ever be the same again.  
  
_Tell me about it..._  
  
"I just wish... I just wish... Oh, God. Is it always this hard?"  
  
_You don't know the half of it!_  
  
Kelly reached out for Chris and in about a second, there they were: holding on to each   
other for dear life.  
  
"You know how much I...I care about you..."   
  
_He knows alright. Believe you me. Dammit._  
  
With that, Captain Archer dog-eared page 324 and tossed the book on the table. Wearily,  
he stood and stretched, then he walked to the window and peered out upon the pearly pink puffs.  
  
"Look at 'em," he scoffed. "Not a care in the world!"   
  
Stifling a yawn, Archer checked the clock - 10 PM GMT.   
  
_Get it over with,_ he told himself. _Just...get it over with._  
  
Resolved, he retired from his ready room then took an indirect route to his quarters. When   
he reached his door he paused, looking left and right.  
  
_No welcoming party? I figured they'd all be here with balloons and funny hats._  
  
The promised visits apparently forgotten, he opened the door and entered the darkened room.   
Immediately, however, he froze, his face losing what little color the last long week had left him.  
  
"No," Jonathan said. "No. Not now. Not like this. It's not right."  
  
(The shadowy specter. The object...)  
  
"You shouldn't even be here," he continued. "And you sure as hell shouldn't be on my bed,   
looking like _that._"  
  
(The subject. Verbally predicating nothing, and thus speaking volumes.)   
  
Archer paced.  
  
(Volumes that he would not...)  
  
"I think- I _know_ we need to talk about this," he said. "I can't go on for much longer."  
  
(...could not...)  
  
"It's more than any man should have to endure," he said, choking back his emotions.  
  
(...hear.)  
  
"Don't you have anything to say??"

"The folly of human love," Foltrane Nixhedge once wrote. "None are spared it's blessing; few   
are spared it's curse. When accepted, when returned, a million avine sing; when rejected, wholly   
spurned, a million apine sting. The faithful hearing wings approach, so close to where he was, not  
the beat of flapping's rush, no, just a beastly buzz."

In the darkness accented only by Sh'Lash's dim rosé, the captain buckled. Beneath the weight  
of love - the kind that dare not speak its name - he fell to his knees.  
  
"Don't just sit there," Jonathan cried. "Say something... _Anything!_"  
  
"Woof," he said. "Woof-woof."  
  
Agony, both plain and pure.  
  
"Oh Porthos, _why do you vex me so?_"

* * *

* * *


	6. Compilation

* * *

**N E B U L O U S V E X ** **Chapter 6 _Compilation_**

* * *

"While I am certainly flattered, Lieutenant, if not a bit, ah, _curious..._I think it's   
best that we keep our relationship on a professional level, hmm?"

**. . . . . . . .**  
  
_One. I wonder if he got the message? Two-o-o. I think he did. Thre-e-e.   
He'd have to know by now. Four-r-r. But still... Fi-i-i-ve. What if I wrote him  
a secret note? Six-x-x..._

**. . . . . . . .**

"Oh God! Ohhhh! _Mmmmm...._ Just like that... MmmHmmm! Talk Vulcan to me...   
_Ohhhhhh Yesssss..._"

**. . . . . . . .**

"All you care about is cheese! Well, here's your _cheese_. Here. Here! And HERE!   
_Damn it all to hell!_"

**. . . . . . . .**

"Hey, there! Didn't s'pect ta see you down here tonight... You know, you're really a  
sight for sore eyes! I've got a little confession to make: I'm nuts about you! Get it? Oh,   
come on! That was funny! Hey, what say me and you go back to my place? Maybe get  
ta know each other a little better? No sense in us both bein' alone tonight..."

Gently, Trip picked up the pie.

* * *

* * *


End file.
